


Not So Private

by cupiditystupidity (sassyhazelowl)



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyhazelowl/pseuds/cupiditystupidity
Summary: When Minerva makes a snide comment, Sting sets out to prove her wrong and he gets more than he bargained for.





	

“Nggh…”

How did he always seem to find himself in these positions? Eyelashes fluttering against the cloth, hyper aware of the hot, masculine presence just behind him, Sting strained to listen, but his super-sharp hearing was going berserk at the lack of sight. He could hear the rustle of the cotton bed sheets as Rogue shifted, the way his own fingers scraped across skin, the indistinct murmur outside of the room of the day-to-day activity, muffled and ordinary. Distracting, it was all so distracting.

“Focus, Sting. A little lower… slower… that’s it… there,” Rogue’s husky voice was nearly a whisper, the commands measured, patient, as if this were just another training session between them. Struggling to obey, just wishing he could just see what he was doing rather than fumbling around, dancing to Rogue’s strings, Sting bit back a hiss at the sensation. But, god, those little words dropped in his ear, the way his fingers scrambled to follow them, the jolts of pleasure that rewarded a job well done, they were more addicting than any battle he’d won, any drug he’d taken.

Fuck, he’d list to any command Rogue gave him, anything the other man asked of him, to keep feeling like this. Excited. Tensed. Charged.

Touching himself had never felt so exquisite, never made his hips arch to hard into his own two hands, panting and writhing at the edge of the bed, toes curling into the carpet and ass grinding down into the mattress below. Jacking-off wasn’t really his thing… Yeah, sure, physically, he could take the top off the tension coiled like a spring, but there just wasn’t much satisfaction to going it alone. It just didn’t do it for him.

This, though, this was another animal all together - his hands barely felt like his own and those sultry, lewd instructions made it hard to breathe, hard to think beyond the next string of words delivered on hot breath into his ear.

“Perfect, so good, give a squeeze… yes, harder now with some stroke to it. Good boy,” It was a caress to his ego, that praise, and he lapped it up as his hands moved to obey the orders without a moment’s hesitation, groaning at the unexpectedly intense sensation the movement caused. Head falling back, lips parted, he tried to straighten, to ignore Rogue’s proximity, to hold his head up.

There was a shifting of the fabric, slipping, teasing him with a glimpse of the mirror they were seated in front of. Fair skin flushed bright pink, fangs hooked over his bottom lip, thighs spread wide and both hands in his half-mast boxers, Sting judged himself to look filthy and wanton. Fingers faltering, deflating, his gaze sought the man behind him.

If he expected composure from the man behind him, it was not what he saw. Ruby eyes were locked over his shoulder, clouded with a haze of lust and want, focused on one thing without another thought: Sting.

“Are you cheating?” It was a purr, a threat, a sultry dare. 

“N-no,” the blond replied, breath caught in his throat at the sight of his partner behind him, with that look, his own boxers slid down and hands in exactly the same position Sting’s own were. “Distracted,” he admitted softly with a huff while Rogue’s chuckle rolled over him, throaty and dark, “Typical Sting, always needing my guidance. Where would you be without me?”

“Fuck, Rogue, I’d be hard and horny, just like I am now,” he couldn’t help the whine that slipped in, the begging note as he squirmed back towards his partner, unable to stand it any longer. Enough of the teasing, the fucking bastard, he was enjoying watching Sting squirm and cry. “Help me, dammit.”

“How will you learn to…” Rogue’s scorching breath was a hair’s width from his ear, lips not quite touching, a stray wisp of hair ticking as he angled back just out of Sting’s reach, “Get yourself off properly… if I help? Isn’t that what you were doing when I walked in? Getting yourself off? ”

“Nggh, don’t wanna,” he mock-pouted, curious what Rogue was doing watching him the way a wolf watched its dinner, voracious and barely civilized. Petulantly, he tilted his head for a better view of Rogue’s face as he said it without slipping the blindfold off, “Wanna get you off.”

Surprise flashed, but Rogue caught himself, “Me?”

“Yeah…” Unsure, Sting plowed on, sure he spoiled everything. Letting the blindfold fall and flutter into his lap, he twisted around to stare into Rogue’s eyes, conveying his sincerity and appeasement, “Minerva said I was an inconsiderate lover… she suggested I… never mind. I was just fucking around, trying to see what got me off, so I could get you off better.”

The consideration that glittered in his partner’s eyes made Sting nervous, more nervous and restless than the silence that left only their heavy breathes, deep gazes held conveying more than any words leaving their mouth could, open and clear.

“Mmm?” Rogue finally said and leaned forward so their noses touched, “Then turn back around. And I’ll tell you exactly how I like you.”

Shit.

Scrambling faster than he’d ever managed in battle, the Light Dragon Slayer complied. Within moments, they were back the way they were, except this time Rogue was flush against Sting, chin resting on his muscular shoulder, meeting his eyes through the mirror, serious again, taking control.

“Hands off your cock, Sting.”

Hastily, he removed them at the sharp rebuke in Rogue’s voice, baffled but intrigued all at once at the sudden change of direction. Was Rogue being serious about this at all? 

“Good boy,” a shiver ran through Sting as the man gave him a nip on the neck, and Rogue gave a small laugh into his neck and flicked his tongue while mumbling, “I don’t like dirty talk; I want some dirty action. Fingers in your mouth. Now, suck.”

Tentatively, he rolled two fingers in his mouth, picking up confidence at the hitch in Rogue’s breath, sucking harder and faster, working the digits over loudly. Each roll across his lips, each smack and pop, each wrestling of the tongue forced sounds out of Rogue that were more lewd and erotic than any time they’d had sex before, even balls-deep.

“Touch yourself,” Rogue said, voice hoarse, pupils dilated and eyes wide, “Everywhere. Everywhere but there.”

Slowly, he obeyed. Fingers wet and slick, he licked them for luck, before placing them against his lips and dragging a line down his chin then giving a slight tug to the pierced ear, knowing damn well Rogue loved to bite it. Winking cheekily, he wiggled his backside a bit to lean forward, stifling the satisfied moan at how hard the other man was already behind him. Trailing with both hands down his chest, lingering only for a moment, just long enough to gauge Rogue’s breaths for what turned him on the most, he highlighted his best assets. With his blue eyes hooded and promising, his fingers traced each individual ab, dragging a delicate fingertip across the sheets of muscle, flexing them and raising goosebumps across the skin at the cooling saliva.

This he did without looking away from the mirror, fascinated by Rogue’s expressions, the way his face twisted and longed and the tip of his tongue flicking out the wet his lips. Noting what got the best reactions, storing it away for later, and fuck, if he wasn’t getting to the point where it was going to be a battle to control himself long enough to be allowed to touch there.

Worth it, was the only thought going through his mind, watching Rogue unravel behind him with a building keen that only dragon slayer ears would have been able to pick up, so high and needy, so raw and primal, grinding his ass back was almost reflex.

It was good Rogue had interrupted his private time before because he sure as hell wouldn’t have had the lotion handy on the side table otherwise, and that would have been regret later, for them both.

“Now?” Sting grunted, losing coherency and control both, and hissed at the sharp nip with the fangs digging into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. Reaching down, regardless of permission, he moaned as a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist and calloused hands covered his, squeezing firmly. Rogue’s whisper of agreement, more of a whimper that was at odds with the strength of his grasp, was into Sting’s neck, their bodies pressed together fully and his eyes squeeze shut tightly, “Now.”

Each stroke, hard and fast now, no time for teasing or foreplay, made Sting’s hip buck furiously back and up into the man behind him. Each time Rogue’s fingers slipped through, joining his, sent a jolt through him at the foreign-yet-achingly-familiar touch until their fingers were practically laced, joined, working his shaft in unison befitting the Twin Dragon Slayers, falling into a rhythm of grunts and slaps.

“Rogue…” he tried to warn him, he truly did, the what mumbled out of his mouth was gibberish. Rogue shuddered behind him, hands squeezing too tight and body heavy, sticky, hot and limp. Sting half-gargled, half-snarled at the bastard coming first, leaving him hanging for once, not the other way around. The Shadow Slayer was never going to live this down, the time he came first and left Sting to finish himself. He’d show Minerva who was an inconsiderate lover.

Both flopped back onto the bed, still half clothed, in a pile of sweaty limbs and sated sighs. Rogue nuzzled his nose into Sting’s hair apologetically, lacing their fingers together tighter as his senses returned and curling a leg over his hip to draw him closer into the cuddle.

“You left me,” Sting mumbled into the sheets, more whine and less fire than he intended, boneless and tangled and exhausted from the sheer intensity. Eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as Rogue nuzzled deeper in reply to his accusation, he was caught off guard by the wry reply, “Then keep up for once.”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did,” Rogue snapped back but Sting could feel the grin as Rogue pressed against him, settling back in, spooning up to his partner in a sweeter parody of their earlier position. “Without even touching me. Sting, you didn’t even touch me, and that was the best sex we’ve ever had.”

Sting smirked smugly, “Next time, I do you. Then we’ll see who is keeping up. OUCH, don’t shove me off the bed!”

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone in the stingue fandom on tumblr. Y'all are awesome.


End file.
